Funny Stories Told by the Soldiers Read online

to dictate a letter home. The Jockassented. Thereupon the minister prepared to take down the letter, butfound Jock tongue-tied and unable to begin.

  “Come along, now!” said the padre kindly. “We must make a start. Whatshall I say?”

  No reply.

  “Shall I begin ‘My Dear Wife?’”

  “Ay,” said Jock, “pit that doon. That’ll amuse her!”

  GERMAN RESTITUTION

  “Any restitution Germany offers to the Allies will be offered, you maybe sure, in the spirit of Griggs.”

  The speaker was Edward Hungerford, the advertising expert.

  “Griggs and Miggs,” he went on, “were kidnapped by bandits and shut upin a cave.

  “‘They’ll take every cent we’ve got on us,’ moaned Miggs. ‘Everyblessed cent.’

  “‘They will, eh?’ said Griggs, thoughtfully.

  “‘They sure will.’

  “Griggs peeled a ten-spot from his roll.

  “‘Here, Miggs,’ he said, ‘here is that ten dollars I’ve been owin’ youfor so long.’”

  BUT DID CHARLEY TELL IT?

  “Charley, dear,” said young Mrs. Torkins, “I have thought up awitticism for you to tell at the club.”

  “Do I have to tell it?”

  “Of course not. But you’ll miss a great chance if you don’t. It’s this:Baseball players ought to be put into the navy instead of the army. Goon; ask me ‘Why?’”

  “Why?”

  “So that they can steal submarine bases.”

  LONG-DISTANCE FAREWELL

  The word came that a company of soldiers in an Eastern camp would leavethe next morning on a transport for France. One soldier came fromPortland, Ore. Quickly he went to the public telephone pay stationand put in a call for his mother. For an hour he paced back and forthbefore that booth, and then came the word “Portland is on the wire.”Slowly but impressively this boy in khaki dropped one hundred 25-centpieces in the slot, and for a precious five minutes that boy heard hismother’s voice and she heard the good-by of her boy. Then, drippingwet from the nervous strain, he ran for his barracks to get ready forFrance and the trenches.

  NINE GIRLS TOO MANY

  He was a strikingly handsome figure in his uniform as he started outupon his round of farewell calls.

  “And you’ll think of me every single minute when you’re in those stupidold trenches?” questioned the sweet young thing upon whom he firstcalled.

  He nodded emphatically. “Every minute.”

  “And you’ll kiss my picture every night?”

  “Twice a night,” he vowed rashly, patting the pretty head on hisshoulder.

  “And write me long, long letters?” she insisted.

  “Every spare minute I have,” he reassured her, and hurried away to thenext name on his list.

  There were ten in all who received his promises.

  When it was over he sighed. “I hope,” he murmured wearily, “there won’tbe much fighting to do ‘over there.’ I’m going to be so tremendouslybusy.”

  WHY NOT BOTH?

  The adjutant was lecturing to the subalterns of the battalion.

  “In the field,” he said, “it is now incumbent upon an officer to makehimself look as much like a man as possible.”

  Everybody laughed.

  “That is, I mean,” he explained, “as much like a soldier as possible.”

  ONLY GOOD GERMANS WERE LEFT

  One of the brightest young business men of Pittsburgh enrolled asa volunteer and by his quick intelligence soon won an officer’scommission. He led his troops in the attack on Bouresches, and so hotwas the fight that a major was sent from headquarters to learn theworst. He met the young officer coming out of the town with part ofhis company. The major happened to be a pompous gentleman, well knownfor his egotism. Having no faith in anyone to “finish a job,” he askedthe young officer:

  “What’s the condition of Bouresches?”

  “In our hands, sir. I left a detachment to guard the town,” replied theyoung officer.

  “Any boches left?” was the next question.

  The young officer hesitated and then said:

  “Yes, sir.”

  A lurid interlude followed. “Did not your orders from me say that noGermans were to be left there?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the young officer.

  “Then why in hell have you disobeyed my orders, hey?” asked the iratemajor.

  The young Pittsburgher looked the major in the eye and replied: “Theburying patrol has not arrived yet, sir.”

  A BREEZY RETORT

  The recruiting had been good and the orator of the occasion felt wellsatisfied with himself. It would be graceful, he thought, to speak afew concluding words to the crowd of men who had dedicated themselvesto “king and country.”

  “And what will you think when you see the flag of the empire standingout from its staff above the field of battle?” the speaker demanded,his face alight with patriotic fervor.

  “Standin’ straight out, guv’nor?” a stolid recruit questioned earnestly.

  “Why—er—yes!” the orator responded, in some confusion.

  “I should think, then,” the future Tommy announced gravely, “that thewind was blowin’ ’ard.”

  PATTING MISSOURI ON THE BACK

  We’re glad to see that General Foch is studying this column for ideasto help speed up the winning of the war. A month or so ago we quoteda paragraph of Jack Blanton’s, advising General Foch that, whiledefensive fighting was all right for awhile, all the great battlesof the world had been won by the armies which took the offensive.Yesterday’s papers quoted General Foch to the same effect. We’vesuspected all along that the unofficial boards of strategy in Paris,Mo., and other country towns knew lots more about the war-problems thananybody in Paris, France, and this proves it.—_Kansas City Times._

  YOU CAN’T BEAT SUCH BOYS

  When the lad came to in the shell hole he thought at first somebody hademptied a bucket of warm water on his face and breast. But it happenedto be blood from a nasty wound running down his cheek and along hischin. He’d not known, naturally, when it had happened. A little wabbly,he was reaching for his rifle when a field surgeon slid down the bankand confronted him.

  “Can you walk?” he asked.

  “Sure, why not?” was the reply.

  “Why, man, you’re wounded!” the surgeon exclaimed.

  The kid’s eyes flashed. “No, sir,” he said with a gory grin; “I wasleaning against the German barrage when the Huns lifted it and I felland cut my chin. That’s all. Please let me stay.”

  HOW TO BE FUNNY IN WARTIME

  This subject is discussed by W. H. Berry, an actor whose “High Jinks”has been going strong with London theater-goers.

  “It is far more necessary for a comedian to get the laughs in time ofwar,” says Berry, “and I know that many of our comedians have workedtheir hardest on the nights when there was bad news in the papers.

  “There are only a few subjects taboo, but they should be shunnedabsolutely. I object, for example, to a joke I heard not long ago aboutwounded soldiers who had to wear glass eyes. I consider such jokesoffensive in the highest degree. As a wag of my acquaintance remarkedthe other day, ‘Some of these war jokes are too warful for words.’

  “There are, however, certain subjects allied to the war on which Iconsider it perfectly legitimate to jest. There is the censorship.There are our pitchy streets at night time.

  “For instance, I myself have perpetrated wheezelets’ on these topics in‘High Jinks,’ of which the following are fair samples:

  “‘Would you believe it, it’s so dark now in London that when I dined atthe Carlton the other night I had to put luminous paint on my potatoesto stop myself putting them in the mouth of the gentleman next to me.

  “‘It’s so dark that when I go to the opera I take a trained glow wormwith me.

  “‘He’s a wealthy man, indeed—he’s got a whole box of matches in hispocket.’”

  NOW ON A WAR-BASIS

  His Honor—“Rufus, didn’t you hear that you had to work or fight?”

  Rufus—“Yaas, boss, I sho’ dun hyer dat. So I goes an’ gits marriedright away.”

  HUMANITY IN WAR

  During a fierce engagement on the Somme battlefield a British officersaw a German officer impaled on the barbed wire between the lines,writhing in anguish. The fire was heavy, but still the wounded manhung there. At last the Englishman could stand it no longer. He saidquietly: “I can’t bear to look at that poor chap.” He went out underthe storm of shell fire, released the sufferer, took him on hisshoulders and carried him to the German trench. The firing ceased.Both sides watched the act with wonder. Then the commander in theGerman trench came forward, took from his own bosom the Iron Cross, andpinned it on the breast of the British officer.

  FLATLY IMPOSSIBLE

  “Yes,” said Simpkins, “I want to do my bit, of course, so I thought I’draise some potatoes.”

  “Well, I thought I would do that,” said Smith, “but when I looked upthe way to do it I found that potatoes have to be planted in hills, andour yard is perfectly flat.”

  THE FRATERNAL SIDE OF WAR

  Jean is a typical French soldier: alert, daring; a keen, educatedyouth. He is equally at home with the German and the French